


Head in the Game

by dracogotgame



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, POV Blaise Zabini, Quidditch, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-31 16:17:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13978872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracogotgame/pseuds/dracogotgame
Summary: Blaise would like to get on with celebrating their team victory. Now, if only Potter would stop yelling at Draco for a minute...





	Head in the Game

**Author's Note:**

> [Originally published March 1, 2014](https://dracogotgame.livejournal.com/74043.html) for hd_writers Wizarding Games.

Blaise sighed and scrubbed his face wearily. It had been a really long day. He was covered in mud and dirt and grime and he would like nothing better than to take a damn shower right now. Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. Honestly, at the rate this team-meeting was going they’d be lucky if their esteemed captain would run out of steam anytime before August.

He sprawled on his chair, taking a look around. The rest of his tired teammates slumped on various flat surfaces, apparently too wrung out to deal with this shite. Despite all expectations to the contrary they actually made a good team, Blaise thought.

Weasley was a surprisingly adequate Keeper. Blaise was pleasantly surprised to find himself working rather well with Neville Longbottom as the team Chasers. The man had a head for strategy, something Blaise greatly appreciated in a fellow team player.

Ernie MacMillan was slight for a Beater but he could pack a punch. Even the normally taciturn Bole had grudgingly admitted he was good. They had played off each other quite well today, punting Bludgers at their opponents with alarming accuracy.

None of  _them_  were the problem.

As always the drama revolved around the team Seeker.

Blaise sighed and twirled his Nimbus 2020 in his fingers. It was a fine racing broom and it had served him well today. Blaise had purchased it specifically for the first game of the season. The first victory of the season, as it turned out.

Blaise scoffed. Quite the  _astounding_  victory this was turning out to be. They had all but trounced Durmstrang in the first season of the Interschool Quidditch Championship, all thanks to a daring twist and spin manoeuvre by their Seeker. The crowd had gone wild and everyone had left the pitch in high spirits, tired but triumphant.

Victory, Blaise thought was rather sweet.

Not that anyone would  _know_  that, considering how Potter was acting. Their team captain had been yelling his head off ever since they’d marched off the Quidditch Pitch.

That by the way, was all of two hours ago.

“What were you  _thinking_ , Malfoy?” Potter snarled. “Do you have any idea what could have happened out there? What in Merlin’s name is wrong with you?”

His eyes flashed angrily as he glared daggers at their sullen Seeker. Draco merely sneered and nursed his bruised shoulder, refusing to dignify that with a response. He didn’t look particularly sorry but he had yet to challenge any of Potter’s vehement accusations. Blaise however, couldn’t resist putting his two knuts in. Honestly, this was getting a bit ridiculous. It was Quidditch, for Merlin’s sake. Risks were a given.

“I believe he was thinking we would win if he caught the snitch,” he drawled. “That is the point of the game, yes?”

Potter turned on him, still glaring. His scarlet robes clashed horribly with the vivid green of his eyes. Or perhaps, Blaise was a bit biased. Red vs. green was a gaudy combination and held little appeal for him.

“He nearly got knocked off his broom,” Potter growled. His fists clenched tightly. “He could have died, the bloody idiot!”

“The crowd loved it,” Weasley pointed out reluctantly. “It was a good feint, you know.”

Draco smirked at that, but it faded quickly when he caught Potter’s eye again. 

“We’re not risking our necks to entertain the public,” Potter snapped. “Not while I’m the sodding captain!” 

“Harry, calm down,” Neville tried. “We won, didn’t we?” He put a calming, friendly hand on Potter’s shoulder which was immediately shrugged off. Neville exchanged a weary look with Blaise and took a seat next to Weasley.

Potter was still shaking with barely suppressed rage. Blaise couldn’t help a discreet eye-roll. The whole thing was just so stupid. So Draco probably shouldn’t have pulled that dive but he couldn’t possibly have anticipated the Bludger splintering his broom when he pulled up again. It was damned fortunate that Neville had been close by and had managed to catch him before he fell, but these things happened all the time in Quidditch. 

Potter shouldn’t be this angry over a simple miscalculation. There had to be more to it. Blaise went over the perplexing situation in his head, looking for a motive.

It could be jealousy. Potter didn’t exactly like playing Chaser for the season. The initial team line-up had caused more than its fair share of arguments. But everyone had agreed that since he was team captain, it was only fair that Draco got to be Seeker. Was Potter pulling a fast one on them? Did he want all the glory then? Blaise’s lip curled. Typical Gryffindor mentality...honestly, why was he even surprised? The picture came together in his head. Now, he had little doubt that Potter was just blowing this incident out of proportion to get Draco out of the picture. 

The wanker...

“So what do you want then?” he challenged with a sneer. “Is Draco off the team? Are you putting him on the bench?”

If Potter was going to play dirty, Blaise was damn well going to call him out on it.

“He won’t,” Draco replied, sounding oddly certain about it. His eyes flicked to Potter expectantly.

“Don’t tempt me,” Potter grumbled. Then he ran a tired hand through his hair and turned back to Draco. “You do  _anything_ like that again and I’m benching you for the season. One more stunt and you’re out. Understood?”

“Duly noted,” Draco replied easily. Blaise frowned. This wasn’t making any sense. There was definitely more to this than meets the eye. He intended to find out what it was. Blaise liked to be informed.

So he shook his head and got up, dusting his hands and nodding at his teammates. “Well, pleasant as this has been we really should revise our strategy,” he suggested smoothly. “Durmstrang won’t fall for the same ploy twice. Shall we convene in the Eighth Year quarters in say, half an hour?”

There were murmurs of agreement and the rest of the team trooped out of the locker room. Blaise followed them, until he realised that Potter and Draco were still lingering in the locker room. Blaise slowed down, earning a curious look from Weasley.

“Go on ahead,” he told his teammate. “I think I left my spare broom here.”

Weasley shrugged and took off. Blaise waited until he was out of sight before slipping into a little nook— conveniently out of sight— to observe Potter and Draco. 

After a while, Draco stood up and approached Potter cautiously. Potter stiffened, still glaring daggers but Draco didn’t really seem to mind. Blaise raised an eyebrow as his friend hooked his arms around Potter’s neck, drawing him closer. Draco’s leaned over and brushed his lips against Potter’s jaw line in a gesture clearly meant to appease him. “Would it help if I said I was sorry?” he asked quietly.

Potter wrapped an arm around him and pulled him closer. “Keep your head in the game, Malfoy” he muttered. “I’m not losing my star Seeker over a stupid feint.”

Then he swooped down and claiming Draco’s lips in a bruising kiss.

Blaise smirked and stole out unnoticed.

Well. At least it made sense now.


End file.
